Sunday I had a simple two hour ride, and being tired of the road (I use "road" loosely here because I am in Montana) decided to take Alma on her maiden Montanan voyage. Little did I know that I would learn two very important lessons. The first lesson I learned is that being a good climber in South Carolina doesn't really mean much. Apparently South Carolina is flat. It's been awhile since I've had to dismount my bike to catch my breath, only to be confronted with the very real likelihood that I would have difficulty regaining the paltry amount of moment I formerly had having unclipped. After several tries I was able to get going again but the blood pouring out of my eyes was a constant reminder of exactly how much fitness I have to gain. The second lesson I learned is what that tiny chainring, the one all of the way on the inside is exactly for. It's for a desperate, pleading and humiliatingly slow ascent, the kind where you work just as hard to keep your front wheel on the ground as to keep consciousness. I love living here, and so does Alma.
Montana: 1
Me: 0
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